Immortal's Madness
by KatastrophicVII
Summary: You think you know what you know, but do you really know what you think? A Mad God cursed by his own design, on the brink of hopelessness, in a mortal he finds some glimmer of hope for lack of conventional sanity. Unfortunately, when he gets a taste for something he finds he may love, it becomes obsessive...
1. Chapter 1

**Immortal's Madness**

Shall We Begin?

 _Chapter 1_

* * *

"You know, the provinces? They _all_ got their problems. " _Hiisss, get out of my sight, Javiki don't like to hear you breath."_ A marsh land that a _lways_ get the wrong end of the stick. The elves dipped in ash, the local reptiles and their talking trees and no one seems to be fond of cats.

A cold damned land, with underground elves, dragons enslaving men but they eventually beat them dead but can one really kill a dragon? Perhaps, but, someone has to rule, some realm has to take control, Gods forbid there just be sweet, sweet anarchy.  
We all, have our tale, some who have greater make it in legends, songs, paintings, statues and the like I suppose. But what am I to all this?  
They say this is the end of an era you know.

There is _always_ an end.

I've seen the end of a realm already you know. But will they listen? Course not! I'm stuck at the bottom of the imperial city!  
I use to be an adventurer you know, a fantastic one! Until I was shot and everyone started going on about taking an arrow to the knee! It wasn't the pain that hurt, just the annoyance of having them laugh, _all_ of them.  
But anyway, this all started when I was looking for any traces of my Great Grandmother you know.

The one who hooked up with a God, can you believe it?"

* * *

"...Any idea what this man is on about?"

"... I don't know but it seems mad enough just for me to listen."

The imperial soldier sat on the stool next to the cell, the Dunmer across the room leaned on the cell bars, watching the Breton sit cross legged at the base of his prison door, who now looked surprised at the guard.

"What, no "Shut up, you filth?"The Breton asked, his voice turning high like a beckoning child. The Imperial slowly turned to look at him from the allowance of his peripheral, finding the prisoner pushing his face against the bars now.

"I have told you that time and time again-"

"How many times exactly, please sir, I need to hear you say it." The mad man interrupted, causing the annoyed Imperial to sigh in frustration.

"... I have told you approximately 56 times, and it has yet to work. It's a long night for me, so just make this one good, alright?"

The Breton smiled, it was curiously knowing. The dark elf notice how handsome he could actually be if he wasn't so filthy.  
This man seemed to have such an abnormal child like charm, a wild expressive voice that matched his vibrant yellow green eyes and slate grey hair. The man who forgot his name. The man who never cared.

"So anyway, your grandmother?" The Dunmer inquired.  
"My grandmother was a pretty fish you know, swam upstream through the rest of the birds." he explained excitedly. The dark elf glowered, "You don't make any sense." he sneered.  
"Then don't sense me words, _see_ them you simpleton! She was, a tad, unique, like me. I found her journal you know. I've seen the records, she was brilliant..." The prisoner nodded smiling as if filled with fond memories.  
"She was a girl, just trying to make her way in this land." He began, though now his voice was more calm and captivating.  
"A land she'd come to be annoyed of, a province plagued with squabble and war like a flea bitten dog. A civilized wilding who lived in the forest since she left Kvatch. She was very alone for days on end, what else could you do but have a little chat to yourself?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Lone Wolfs_**

 _Chapter~2_

* * *

She was a girl, just trying to make her way in this land. A land she'd come to get annoyed of, a province plagued with squabble and war like a flea bitten dog. A civilized wildling who lived in the forest since she left Kvatch. She was very alone for days on end, what else could you do but have a little chat to yourself?

* * *

She strolled down the path, knowing nothing would dare harm her. She was practically a ghost to the people around these parts. To all but the large wolf growling at her about to spring, of course. She didn't mind though, this was the third time with this beast.  
 _'I think I'm starting to enjoy the attention...'  
_ There was a furious bark as the large wolf sprung at the girl from behind, assured with the guarantee of her injury, mame and possible death, he bit and snapped at her.  
Instead, it ended in a yelp.  
The beast, found himself quite alive, but thoroughly surprised. His teeth hadn't even scratched her.  
Wincing like a puppy being nipped at by his mother, the rough grip of her orcish gauntlets tighten around his muzzle.  
This Breton girl got very close to the hounds face.  
"Hey there!" She said happily with a gruff lilt, "I like your eyes." She stared into it's yellow wild eyes, seeming to ponder something.  
"I could gut you for your pelt... Hah! Ya big ol' Timber wolf, but I like your eyes!"  
Smiling she dropped the stunned wolf, watching him stumble on the ground.  
This wolf felt embarrassed, even worse, humiliated. A deep growl came from the depths of his bowels yet again, attempted to spring at her.  
His plans didn't last long when his body fell numb and he couldn't move an inch, frozen on the spot.  
The girl knelt down tapping on the wolf three times, checking if her spell worked, "In fact, I want to keep you. So first rule, no biting me, yes?"  
She picked up the wolf, throwing him over her shoulder to carry him back on her merry way home.  
"Now! Since you're mine, time for first name basis. The name's Vireyne! Grew up in Kvatch. Father was a guard in command, my mother owned the forge. Happy time, happy times, till the war. Ran off, grew up in the wood after that."  
She seemed to become very serious in her thoughts that drifted into years, the years of her life that were filled with nasty sights.  
"You?" She asked, her voice didn't seem so playful now, but very serious, "You're... Timber Jack! Yeah I like that, loner type? Me too. Great."

The wolf, newly named Timber Jack, wasn't sure about any of this. All he knew was that every time he found he could move, he was paralyzed again. He tried, relentlessly, not to give in. To his own demise though, he was hungry. He found what she would offer to be very generous and tempting. Finally before he starved himself to death, he took what she had to offer. He never knew why, but he felt like it was a good trade. Free food just for some company, the odd pat. He began to worry, ' _Is this the way I am to become... a dog? A pet?'  
_ She trusted him, leave him to freely wander whenever he pleased. He could easily leave her, yet he found he would always return. He consistently began to question himself every day, this was something his instinct would have never allowed him to do.  
The wolf began to slip into his own mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Mad God's Rain_**

 _Chapter~ 3_

* * *

The halls echoed with the calls of a thick, expressive, accent. To the left rained splendor, beauty and gluttony in all pleasures of your desire. To your right was mystery, swarmed with a twisted darkness that clawed at your true intent and deep crave for blood and pain.  
Or was that to your left?  
Depends on which way you're standing doesn't it?

* * *

"Haskill! HASKILL, HASKILL, HASKILL! Haskill, come see this before I pop out your eyes! Have them decorate, or flavor a nice fancy alcohol in a wee glass, Haskill!"  
A well dressed man with a very bored expression appeared in a gale of magic.  
"Oh, I just love it when you do that, Haskill" Pipped the deranged King, truly lost in his own mind and all the splendor it only appeared to give him.  
"You wanted me to see something before you used my eyes for a garnish, my lord?"  
"A flavor, Haskill."  
"Of course, your Grace." His posh, toneless voice seemed to tame the mad King's thoughts.

"It's a mortal…" Cooed Sheogorath, he skipped over to the great basin of water that laid before the great tree. Peering inside like a child watching the fish in a pond.  
"Another cannibal, feasting my Lord?"  
"Not at all! It's a female! Hahahaa!"  
"One stuck by histeria then, at a doctor's "check up"?" Haskill peered over his shoulder to find him staring into clear waters.  
Sheogorath seemed to be smiling down at his own reflection, "No, but perhaps. Could be, but she isn't. Isn't it fascinating?" He reached out a finger to gently stroke the water's surface.  
"My Lord, I'm afraid I don't understand."  
Sheogorath's reflexion became quite serious, "Haskill, she is mad, yet sane."  
He turned around to face his loyal servant, "She goes one way, but sometimes the other. She named a white horse Gall, got a black one called Ahad." The King leaned close to Haskill's face, who in turn, remained like a statue.  
"When they died, she tamed a paint horse to call Galahad…" He whispered with a deadly venom that would make most mortals piss themselves.

Sheogorath took a step back, looking as if he needed to forget something.  
"I've watched her fer 3 years, maybe 17! But 3, no more, or no less. Except for next week. Then it will be 5. Cause I like 5…"  
Sheogorath spun around, with a snap of his fingers thunder roared over the land and rain began to bucket down. He leaned ever closer to the waters at the base of the tree, "Haskill, I don't think yer understandin'. She tamed a wolf, just cause she liked it's yellow eyes. It got shot down, so in her grief she skinned it, keeping its body in her house till she got bored again and resurrected it. Timber Jack is now a loyal skinned wolf and his master wears his pelt."

The mad King paused, gently reaching out to touch the waters again, "Haskill, I have to meet her, I need to break this mortal." He whispered, Haskill walked by side, his king looking up at him with a solemn expression.  
"But why the fascination my Lord?"  
"I've finally seen someone who might think like me…"  
Haskill soon became surprised, not realising it was _this_ bad. He stepped back as Sheogorath soon swept around, "SHE STOLE THE GREATEST CHEESE COLLECTION IN THE EMPIRE!"  
The mad king bellowed and clapped his hands, almost dancing. Haskill compensated his master's joy with a humble smile, "Most remarkable indeed sire."

* * *

 **Author's note:** In relation to the Elder Scrolls, you may have noticed this is is relatively based on the Shivering Isle quest, upgrade, whatever. So I suppose, there may be spoilers, there may not be- in fact there probably will be! So if you are squeamish and run from such things, be my guest, rrrrunnn.


	4. Chapter 4

_**No, Just flowers if you please.**_

 _Chapter~4_

* * *

"And so, the _fun_ starts." The shackled Breton stood to stretch his legs, beginning to whistle a random tune. The Dunmer held captive across the room was sitting on his sleeping mat against the wall, sneering at the random noise. The guard now standing, thinking of going up to his quarters for ale and bread.  
"Well, you have some Breton named Vireyne, catching the chaotic eyes of the Mad God. How is the "fun" suppose to start?"  
"I guess it's because they finally meet." The Breton replied to the Dark Elf's incredulous tones. The elf peered over to find the man performing a handstand in his cell.

He frowned, "Last time I heard of Sheogorath and a woman, he was creating instruments with her bowels."  
The Breton walked on his hands until he decided he was bored of that. Insead he began to crouch on his toes, "That may be true, but you have to think, you clearly haven't heard of every encounter the Daedric Prince has had with a female."  
The dark elf became curious, now the Bretons tones seemed normal, even diplomatic, "I remember it all too well. You see, he had been watching her for years, she was now 25. He had been watching for 8 years. In the Madhouse back then, 8 years was only a matter of weeks for him."

The Guard was now suspicious of the Breton, seeming quite sain suddenly.  
"I read her journal, and the way she worded it was perfect. " _So of course, there is this charming man, his body only a mask, honey to attract a fly such as myself. So perfect to me, I knew it couldn't be true. As I thought, low and behold, twas really some king- who obviously danced on the border of sanity- with a god complex, a severe split personality disorder and with a side of amnesia. Making me think, by the nine, how lucky am I to be met with such an INTERESTING specimen..."_

* * *

The air, thick and cool with the mist that lazily floated about the lightly wooded area. The Daedric Prince waltzing his way to meet this mortal whom he wanted to break.  
"Oh what a fantastic time- land, for instance- the beautiful flowers in the meadow."  
Sheogorath looked upon the white wildflowers that swayed in the gentle breeze, "I hate how they're so... BLAND! Boring!" He shouted at the mist. Turning to glare at the tasteless flora, noticing a huntsman chasing a deer, Sheogorath began smiling with a bloodthirsty intent.

With a click of his fingers the deer grew and became a nasty troll.

Soon the white flowers were now painted red with the huntsman's blood, leaving the mad god to continue on his merry satisfied way.

As he skipped, jumped, jogged and danced his journey, his head began to fill with a swarm of thoughts, ' _What if she doesn't like me? Kill her then! Is she into men? What kind of men? Gasp! What if she likes women...'  
_ He stopped in his tracks, shaking his head and clicking his heals he continued, ' _eh, I'm down for that, what was I doing in Tamriel…? Right! Wrong region!'  
_ Sheogorath vanished from the near outskirts of the Valenwood borders of Elsweyr, soon appearing far south of the Black Road in the Great Forest region of Cyrodiil. To his lovely surprise it was raining in these parts, ominously.

"What a perfect excuse!" Exclaimed the grey haired, yellow eyed, man-like, bearded Deadra dressed in a colorful assortment. He ran up to the empty looking cabin, adjusting his hair, and collar, checking to see if anything abnormal was growing off of himself before knocking.

The door slowly opened, in the crack there appeared a bright green eye, glaring suspiciously at the stranger.  
"...How rather polite of some... highway man to knock, on some abandoned house in the middle of a forest during natures wrath..."  
The scruffy Breton man- who clearly hadn't shaved for a week- standing before her just seemed to stare blankly at her. Slowly, he scratched his messy head of dark auburn hair, "I uh, yes, well you see... The rain..."  
She now opened the door, the animated being of muscle tissue and bone sitting by her side, its black eyes staring up at the man, "The rain? What about it? Don't tell me it's acid this time." Peering out she checked to see if anything was melting or on fire.

"No actually, I quite love the rain they say, it's wet out here, can I come in?" He blurted all this out before hastily covering his mouth, for fear he would shout something like:  
 _By the way, I'm really Sheogorath, a Daedric Prince, fancy that! And I may fancy you, tell me, what are you thinking, what do you fear, can I see your brain? Would you mind if I licked it, just once, even on accident, I swear it won't happen again, after all you're only a mortal so you may not survive long without that organ. Please let me take you to my realm I want you to talk to Haskill, he looks rather nice in a suite, I have a realm, isn't that great? My apologise, who are you again? I like yarn. I would like some the color of your hair, what a fascinating shade of midnight blue, I want my day times to be that color...  
_ Sheogorath began to notice something, he was trying to actually control himself. Something his mind usually never let him do.

Vireyne frowned at him, a dagger clutched behind her back, she really didn't know how to deal with someone like this, or people in general. She had specifically dug a pit- not far from here- just for her visitor's bodies, but this one was very curious to her indeed.  
She thought of him like a flower.

A pretty one you pick to keep in water till it dies.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Ignorant Bliss**_

 _Chapter~5_

* * *

Vireyne stepped aside, cautiously watching this stranger almost bounce with joy as he tiptoed into her home. He looked around, the small house seemed bigger on the inside, chaotic yet precisely organised. The area could pass for a torture dungeon, or an art gallery, it only depended on your frame of mind. Sheogorath couldn't seem to contain himself, he cackled madly, surprising the woman, "How brilliant! I've never seen such a mortal like this, I never thought I'd actually STAND in this place!"

"...m-mortal?-" She stuttered, the man jumped around, picking her up by the arms and shaking her violently, "And YOU. I never thought I'd be touching you! Shaking you till you're sick! Isn't this marvelous! MARVELOUS! Where am I? I'm here with YOU, my hands are on you, look at that.  
Don't vomit on me and we'll be just fine, or perhaps not."

"Put me down you cracker jack! What is wrong with you!?" She went to bite him, Sheogorath dropped her before she succeeded, noticing her pet was snarling at him. Vireyne felt dizzy and nauseous from her body being shaken like a rag doll, "Just, who do you think you are!? All the people I've encountered don't greet someone like that! Then again, it would make life a bit more fascinating if they did, bandit, fine sir, you should start a trend. After you do though I probably won't like it, so don't bother."  
"I really shouldn't should I? Who am I? I don't think I want to answer that question, it's no fun to spoil a surprise, but it's different from who I may _think_ I am, see even then, it depends on your way of thought. Course it may not, but I know it most likely does... who are you again? Oh! That's right, YOU!"

Vireyne looked at the stranger curiously, she hadn't met anyone else who will openly wonder into thought and all its possibilities, at least not aloud before. This one still seemed off to her, he seemed to forget a lot.  
Sheogorath stared at her, she was quiet now, the only noise was the storm outside. He began to worry, ' _Have I broken her so soon? Why is she so quiet? Is she sick? I don't know if I like her anymore, she is starting to bore me, yet it's not so boring because of this mysterious silence from her, I need to know why...'_

"It's awfully quiet, don't you think?" Asked the stranger.  
"No..." She answered awkwardly as he bounced on his heels at the sound of her voice,  
"Why isn't it?" He whispered with a becoming crave.  
"Because... it's not quite outside, it's not quite inside," She tapped on her head, "but it only _seems_ quiet here. Course now that's ruled out because we're talking..."  
Sheogorath lit up even more now, "That, is _exactly_ right."

"Where do _you_ get the authority from to tell me what is right and wrong? You're just some stranger who sought shelter from the elements! You're lucky I've let you live this long, you smell _sick_ , I'm alone for a reason, by _my_ choice, because maybe _I'm_ sick. A sickness where you know you can't do anything but learn to enjoy it, so shoo! Away with you!" She barked at him. Marching to the door exit and pointed him out, the stranger stood there, like he was shocked, like he couldn't have possibly imagined this to happen.

"...Sick?... Vireyne, we aren't _sick_ , we're trapped, in ourselves."

"How do you know my name!? I don't even know you! So enough of this talk like we're friends! Right or wrong, you aren't even my acquaintance!"  
Sheogorath grabbed at his head, realising this major flaw. He pulled at his hair, "Oh I'm so, so, stupid!"

Timber Jack came up to the man, his skull tilted up at him curiously.  
"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He shouted, pulling at the tuffs of hair, Vireyne noticing how the man's voice was distinctly different, "I'm Sheogorath! I've been watching over you for almost 8 years now!"  
"Hello Sheogorath, you're still not welcome here, and I have no qualms with adding you to my pit count if you've been spying on me for my father. Formalities over, get out."  
The Daedric Prince couldn't believe his ears. Never before had a mortal simply talked to him like that once they knew the possers true identity, but then he realised something.

"Haven't you heard of me? Your father? I'm Sheogorath! You know, I love yarn! A head of lettuce!"  
"Well if you're a spy it would defeat the purpose if I were to have heard of you. As always though, I let my enemy become their own undoing, as you are here, fantastically demonstrating now. I too like yarn, lettuce is also very nice, now begone."  
"Just how much have your, futile little ears heard, of the Daedric Princes? My dear, _dear, infuriating flower."  
_ Sheogorath didn't bother covering up his voice now, his words seeming happy and inviting, dropping into bloodthirsty, sadistic growls.

"Daedric Princes? Those Gods with the different realms? Never believed in them. Oh yeah, heard a drunk man bout singing how high they flew. He's been rotting in the pit. Another character showed up, talking bout a night mother, some guy called Sithis getting it on, ain't that hot. I just hate cult and church advertisement, and when someone's singing annoys me. Both in my pit, now maybe if you'd GET, OUT. I won't have to deal with your rotting smell."  
Sheogorath was now dumb founded, almost lost for words. She frowned, this man called Sheogorath seemed to change in appearance. His scruffy short auburn rag faded to a white streaked with grey, growing into a neatly kept, combed back head of hair. His dark stubble lightened into grey, his 20 year old complexion turned to early 30's. Vireyne now stopped to look closely as the whites of his eyes turned black, the green hazel eyes turning a deep yellow as his pupils narrowed.

"I, am Sheogorath. The, Mad God. Daedric Prince of the one of the Four Corners, ruler of the Never-There. My realm known as Asylum, Madhouse, a land called the Shivering Isles."  
He produced a cane as if from thin air, puzzling Vireyne in his new appearance of clothes that seemed to be perfectly divided down his centre. Sheogorath leaned on his cane in front of him, swaying back and forwards. Patiently waiting for her reaction, not complaining about her silence as he found her changing expression amusing.

"Vireyne, care to join me for a stroll? I rather do love the rain."


	6. Chapter 6

_Sweeping of feet_

 _Chapter 6~_

* * *

The girl followed cautiously, in a state of slight shock and paranoia at the realization of how the rain didn't touch either of them.

 _'Is, this- now, old exotically dressed gentleman- a god? How is this possible, why is a god bothering me of all people, I mean, mortals…'_

"Have you ever dreamed of skies that- almost glowed- in the night? A land so colorful, most famous artists couldn't dream to capture?" Sheogorath asked turning to the slinking girl.

"Day dreamed? Oh yeah, those are the best, you can control those. I've never been able to control my dreams though, else I'd be able to tell you if I remembered. I love the idea, the sky becomes so boring after years spent looking up, cricks your neck I tell you." She chucked to herself, but felt nervous at the Mad God's happy, lighter than air, as if he could be walking on clouds right now- smile.  
"You! My dear girl. Have yet to disappoint me! You're doing marvelously well, extremely well indeed." He clapped and bounced on his toes in glee. He seemed like a child to Vireyne, yet, he was nothing like one.  
"You have almost set a record! Depends on what time you'd like to use though- that," He leaned closer to her face, his voice dropping into a growl, " _is very, tricky._ "

This act confused and yet amused Vireyne, she almost admired his expressive behavior, no matter how bizarre it-"Bizarre? Is that the word you'd honestly think of, in reference to ME?" He called out, making her panic in shock.

"Hey, what!? You were in my head!?"

"Where else was I supposed to meander in, yer stomach? Actually, let's not answer that.." He began to think. Whether it was a discomforting concept or promising, Vireyne wasn't sure if she wanted to know, now feeling oddly violated.

"Well if I'm so bizarre to you, it may as well be raining- gasp! It should rain calipers! Imagine the bruises on people!" He exclaimed and to Vireyne's horror there was a metallic thud on the ground. Looking behind him she found the house hold tool on the ground, soon the item showering from a vibrant, eye aching purple and blue clouded "You… you did this?"  
"But who else! Reality is only what you make of it, the concept varies from person to person, I will tell you, it's only real if you notice it. You can change it to your will even! Well, if you're like me, which you both are and aren't."

"So… if you can't see, feel, smell or hear, then reality, is actually nothing? Even when the world is around?"  
"This world isn't, reality, it's a kind of existence, that is their existence of nothingness, but it is the reality which the live in. If you take notice, it exists."  
"So, really in theory, Gods are actually real it's just the individual's ignorance that balances perspective, influencing judgement and believe."  
Sheogorath jumped in the air, pointing at her excitedly, "You got it! You're on to it! Not many mortals get that! It's like talking to walls and they think I'm just making it up, but you got it! That, is life! What separates beings like me, from expendable mortals like you! Wonderful!" He exclaimed and lunged to pick her up.  
Vireyene smile weakly, bracing herself for a manic round of body shaking again, but the Mad God stopped suddenly, only inches away from her face.  
"You know, with mortals, I keep a professional boundary, filthy things they are…" His voice no longer chirped, the rain of tools came to a stop as well.  
"You puzzle me though. Make my head ache, that one puzzle where someone's gone and lost a piece here or there or used pieces from another game. Confusing puzzlement, in fact- delightfully confuzzling." He stood up, prodding his cane into the earth with sudden stern expression.  
"The Isles! You need a vacation. My home, my home away from places that aren't, though, I'm fond of this place, but still."

* * *

"With that, he took her away without question" the Breton pondered for a moment going to sit at the table in the back of his cell.  
"Oh, is that it?" The Dunmer inquired, unsure if he was hopeful that was all, or if it left him empty not knowing what else happened.  
"I don't think it's safe for any realm having the two nuts running around anyway, she was a sociopathic murderer..." The imperial muttered.  
"I can't say all what transpired in Asylum, but I only know what she wrote about." The Breton pondered, somehow producing tattered folds of parchment out of his sack clothes.

"How did you-!?" The guard exclaimed, suddenly stopping as he caught the Breton's gaze, a knowing stare that only chilled him to his core.  
"Oh, I'll paper cut you to death would I?" He chuckled and cleared his voice. He had nothing better to do, a statement the Dark Elf would agree on in terms of listening.

 _"How ever the name, Madhouse, Asylum befell mortals knowing in reference to the Shivering Isles, is nothing short of the best description…"_

* * *

 _ **Author's note:**_ Sorry I haven't updated much, I've been dealing with moving, so apologize if my posting is even more inconsistent. Furthermore, I have a vague idea of where this will go and it's ending very shortly- I'm lacking inspiration and I guess it's doing better than i thought-  
Further update~

 _Pardon the incredible mess this site turned this chapter into previously! It was crazy hahaha.  
So what I would like to follow up with is I will update more regularly, originally I wanted to can it and just star a sequel from here but I've decided not to! As I said, this is going better than I had thought, so why not. Sorry for all the long windedness, and thank you! _


End file.
